


Textiles and Advanced Understanding

by onemechanicalalligator



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon Autistic Character, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meltdown, Sensory Overload, Sexual Content, Stimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25808422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemechanicalalligator/pseuds/onemechanicalalligator
Summary: Jeff learns what Abed needs and how best to support him.
Relationships: Abed Nadir/Jeff Winger
Comments: 16
Kudos: 172





	Textiles and Advanced Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from @scruffylooking-nerfherders on tumblr <3

**one**

Jeff accuses Abed of having Asperger's in front of the whole study group as a retaliation, and he doesn't consider the implications, even if he's pretty sure it's true. Abed is awkward and weird, he doesn't know how to read the room, or where to put his hand for a handshake. He doesn't make much eye contact. He feels… _removed._

That's about all Jeff does know about Asperger's, though. About autism in general. And it doesn't occur to him that maybe he should know more, he should read up on it. It doesn't occur to him that he has no idea what to expect or how to react if something goes really wrong, and maybe if he'd taken the time, he'd know what to do right now.

But he doesn't, and they're a few months into school and Abed is his friend now. When he drops to the floor in the middle of study group and starts making a high pitched whining sound, everybody freezes and looks at Jeff, and he has no idea how to respond. 

"What happened?" he asks frantically. “Did anybody see?"

Shirley shakes her head morosely, and Britta and Troy both look like they're about to cry. 

"Wasn't me," Pierce says, his hands in the air. "There's something wrong with that one."

"It's my fault," wails Annie. "I've been bringing him smoothies in the morning to try to get some vitamins into him. I snuck some kale into it this morning because I thought it would be good for him. I didn't think he'd notice." 

Abed has his eyes squeezed shut and his hands over his ears. Jeff leans down and touches his shoulder lightly, and he startles like he's been burned. He starts to shriek, and Jeff backs away feeling like a monster. 

"Annie," he says. "Close the door. I think we're gonna have to wait this out."

Everyone starts talking at once while Annie closes the door, and Abed begins to rock back and forth. He pulls his hood over his head and then puts his hands back over his ears. 

"Everybody shut up," Jeff says. "I think the noise is bothering him." 

“This is ridiculous,” grumbles Pierce. “He’s a grown man.”

“Pierce, get out,” Jeff says, quietly but sharply, and points to the door. Pierce glares at him, but then looks at Abed and shakes his head and walks out the door.

Everyone else looks at Jeff, who goes to his spot at the table and sits down. A moment later they all follow suit, and they study in silence until Abed eventually stops shrieking. He doesn’t move for several more minutes, and when he finally does, he stands up and flees the room without looking at or speaking to any of them.

**two**

More than a year goes by, and Abed invites Jeff to a fancy restaurant for his birthday dinner, and the homage is a failure. It does lead to a bit of a heart-to-heart, though, which is nice, because they had gotten really close, and now Abed seems to be worried that they’re drifting apart. The conversation leads to another dinner, and another, and another. They're still at the restaurant after one of these dinners when Jeff asks Abed if he'd like to come back to his place. 

"Is this a sex thing?" Abed asks. "I'm really bad at subtext." 

Jeff admires his directness, and he's also a little caught off guard, because he didn't really plan this. 

"Maybe?" he says. "I kind of thought we could just…see where things go." 

"Okay," says Abed. "But it would be good if you could be clear about your intentions as things progress. If they do. I've just ended up in a lot of awkward situations when I tried to guess what a potential partner was hinting at and…got it wrong." 

"Have you had a lot of partners? Potential or otherwise?" 

"Kind of," Abed says, and shrugs. 

"Male or female?" Jeff asks, thinking maybe this should have been his _first_ question, but it's too late now. 

"Both." He says it nonchalantly, like it's no big deal. 

"Oh." 

"Does this bother you?" Abed asks. 

"Does what bother me?" 

"Me being kind of a bisexual slut?" He says it completely sincerely. 

"I'm going to be straight with you, Abed," Jeff sighs. "I am, too." 

"Oh, I actually already knew that." 

"You-- What?" Jeff sputters. 

"You don't really try that hard to hide it, Jeff. Maybe the bisexual part, but I've seen how you look at Rich." 

"I…" 

"Look, how important is this conversation? Because we could just head back to your place now. I mean, if you want." 

“Let's.”

They leave the restaurant and Jeff drives them to his condo. When they get inside, Abed starts to wander around, looking at the walls, the furniture, the ceiling, the appliances.

“Are we on _House Hunters?”_ Jeff asks.

“Sorry,” Abed says, blushing. “I’m being rude, aren’t I?”

“You’re fine,” Jeff says. “I’m just giving you a hard time. What do you think?”

“It’s nice,” Abed says. “It’s a little...impersonal.”

“Impersonal?” Jeff asks, trying to decide whether or not to be offended.

“I don’t mean it as an insult, it’s just...it kind of reminds me of a hotel? But hotels are nice…”

“No, you’re right,” Jeff says. “I don’t have any photos or...heirlooms or anything.”

“Or cozy pillows or blankets,” Abed adds. “Those are important.”

“They are?”

“Sure,” Abed says. “They’re comforting. And they’re good for…” He trails off and ducks his head.

“Good for what?” Jeff asks.

“It’s nothing,” Abed says.

“Would you tell me anyway?” Jeff asks gently.

“I have sensory problems sometimes,” Abed says slowly. “Soft pillows and cozy blankets can be good for that. I have a weighted blanket at home.”

“Is that related to your, um…” Jeff doesn’t know what to call them, even though he’s witnessed a few of them now. He still doesn’t know how to help.

“Meltdowns,” Abed says dully. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Jeff says, and he can tell Abed is uncomfortable. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks,” Abed says, relief washing over his face.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“A glass of water, please,” Abed says, and Jeff finds that pretty adorable.

He pours a glass of water for Abed and considers pouring a scotch for himself, but he doesn’t want to be the only one drinking, not if something is going to happen between him and Abed, so he settles for water as well. They sip in silence until finally Jeff gets up and walks toward the TV.

“Want to watch something?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“Sure,” Abed says. 

They settle on the couch and Jeff finds an old movie marathon, which delights Abed. They watch for a while, and Jeff doesn’t know what to do next, because he wants to make a move and he’s not sure how. Abed is different from anyone he’s ever dated, ever brought to his condo, ever brought to his bed. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

It turns out he doesn’t need to worry, because while he’s pondering all of this, Abed slides his hand over and knocks it gently against Jeff’s, hooking their pinky fingers together. Jeff smiles and then takes Abed’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and squeezes. In his peripheral vision he sees Abed grin, and it makes him happy.

A few minutes go by and then Abed leans his head against Jeff’s shoulder. Jeff lets go of Abed’s hand and wraps an arm around his waist instead, and Abed is so thin that Jeff’s hand ends up resting on Abed’s stomach, and he tilts his head down to look at him, to make sure that it’s okay. Abed responds by snuggling up against Jeff’s side like a cat.

Jeff isn’t paying much attention to the movie. He’s focused purely on Abed, the feeling of his head on Jeff’s shoulder, the way it shakes when he laughs. His body beneath Jeff’s arm, bony and lanky in a way that makes Jeff want to keep him safe. He’s thinking about the night last year when they got drunk in Abed’s dorm room, when he woke up to find Abed asleep in a dresser drawer, and wonders what it would be like to wake up _next to_ Abed.

The movie ends and Abed tears his eyes away from the television to look up at Jeff. His eyes are big and bright and focused. Jeff leans down, a flutter in his stomach, and pauses just before he reaches Abed’s lips. Abed responds by lifting his head to close the gap and kissing Jeff neatly on the mouth, and Jeff kisses back, letting his mouth fall open, allowing his hands to roam.

The flutter turns to a buzz and Jeff is plunged headfirst into a dizzying current of desire. He loses track of everything around him, is focused purely on sensation.

The kiss is _warm sweet wet soft more,_

their hands are _here there hold touch more,_

(they stumble clumsily from couch to bedroom,

fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and urgency and hot breath) 

and their fingers _stroke graze brush press more,_

their hips _rock tilt snap thrust more,_

he feels it _burn twist grow build more_.

(There are murmured affirmations of consent, 

and clothes go flying, 

and a drawer opens and shuts

and a cap flips open and closed.)

And then it’s _ready_ and _okay_ and _yes_ and _here_

and _please_ and _now_ and _slowly_ and _careful_

(and broken voices and frantic whimpers

growing more ragged and needy every second)

and it’s _faster_ and _harder_ and _more_ and _more_

and _oh_ and _oh_ and _now now now now now--_

**three**

It develops into a real relationship, the kind they finally tell the study group about, and everyone is a little confused at first, because they’ve been pretty discreet. But as they start to be more openly affectionate in public, it seems to settle with people. 

Troy and Britta are the first to agree that Jeff and Abed actually have some stuff in common (“They’re both neurotic and have an absent parent,” says Britta. “They’re both super cool and tall,” says Troy.) 

Shirley is in the middle of looking for a new church, and she starts trying out ones that are LGBT-friendly. She doesn’t stop giving them hugs. 

Annie doesn’t disapprove, it just takes her a little while to wrap her head around it. Once she does she’s thrilled for them. (Years later she will admit that Jeff and Abed coming out opened the door for her to start exploring her own sexuality, and that’s probably why she acted so weird at first). 

Pierce, for someone so passionate about gay jokes, doesn’t seem to know what to do now that it’s not a joke anymore. He becomes a lot more easygoing, at least on that very specific front, and everyone is relieved.

Abed spends a lot of time over at Jeff’s place, because it’s a great alternative to his dorm room, which is small and can get loud sometimes. He gets used to being there, and the slightly sterile decor doesn’t bother him so much, and everything is well and good and fine, until it’s not.

It starts out like a normal afternoon. Jeff and Abed are at the kitchen table finishing up some homework when Abed gets a text message. He looks at it and sets the phone down. A minute passes and he picks it up and looks again. He’s tapping his foot against his chair. The third time he checks it he brings his hands beneath the counter, but Jeff can still kind of see them, can see the way he’s flapping them back and forth.

“Is everything okay?” Jeff asks carefully. 

“Yeah,” Abed says, his voice tense. “They, um. Canceled my class tomorrow. Rescheduled it for another time.”

“Oh,” says Jeff. 

It’s silent except for the tapping of Abed’s foot, and he’s biting his lips, and Jeff doesn’t know what to do, so he just waits.

“I have to go,” Abed says suddenly, and he grabs his bag and runs out the front door, leaving his homework on the counter and Jeff staring after him.

Jeff is concerned, because he drove Abed over to his place after school. But he doesn’t live too far from campus, so it’s not like Abed couldn’t walk home if he needed to. He thinks about going after him, but decides that Abed is an adult, and if he needs space, that’s okay. Instead he clutches his phone for the rest of the night, staring at it as if that will make it ring or vibrate with a text, and eventually it does, but not until late, until after dark, until Jeff is really worried.

“Hello? Abed?” he says, trying not to sound as frantic as he feels.

“Hi,” Abed says, his voice monotone, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“Are you okay?” Jeff asks, still trying to regulate his voice, still trying to sound calm.

“Yeah.”

“You, uh, left really suddenly.”

“I’m sorry,” Abed says, and now he sounds miserable.

“No, it’s okay,” Jeff says. “I...was worried about you.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I just…” Abed trails off.

“Yeah?”

“Had to leave,” he says quickly.

“All right,” Jeff says. "Do you...feel comfortable telling me why you had to leave?”

“Not really…”

“Okay.”

“But I will anyway.” Abed says it quietly. Hesitantly. “Are you busy right now?”

“Not even a little,” Jeff says truthfully.

“Would you, um. Like to come over to my dorm?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Jeff promises. 

It’s actually seven minutes later when he gets to Abed’s door. He knocks, and Abed opens it right away, as if he was waiting right next to it. He lets Jeff in and then shuffles over to his bunk bed. He’s wearing sweats, which Jeff has never seen before, and when he sits down on the bed he pulls a thick blanket around himself. Jeff sits next to him, his back against the wall, and Abed rests his head on Jeff’s shoulder, looking straight ahead.

“Hi,” Jeff says.

“Hi,” Abed says. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. I’ve been worried about you.” Jeff wraps an arm around Abed.

“I’m sorry,” Abed says, sounding dejected.

“No, don’t feel bad,” Jeff says. “I just care about you, that’s all.”

“I have a really hard time sometimes when things, um...change,” Abed whispers. “Not even significant things. Just, like, I have a schedule or a plan and that’s how I expect things to be and when they change, especially at the last minute…”

“Like your class today,” Jeff says, understanding where this is going.

“Yeah,” Abed says. “And that kind of thing sometimes can trigger a, uh. Meltdown.”

“Okay,” says Jeff.

“Do you know what that means?” Abed asks.

“Not really,” Jeff admits. “But I’m assuming it’s that thing that happens sometimes when you kind of…”

“Shut down and make a terrible noise for seemingly no reason?” Abed says bitterly. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it is.”

“Okay.”

“It’s an autism thing.”

“Okay.” Jeff doesn’t want to interrupt Abed, because even though it’s slow going, it seems like they’re making progress. But he also wants Abed to know he’s listening, that he’s engaged. That he understands this is important.

“I know you told everyone I have Asperger’s at our first study group,” Abed says. “Did you know I actually am autistic?”

“It was a guess,” Jeff admits. “But to be honest, I don’t actually know much about it. And I shouldn’t have said that to you in front of everyone, and I’m sorry about that. And I’m sorry I never apologized until now.”

“It’s okay,” Abed says. “That’s not why I brought it up. I just...have been meaning to tell you about it since we’ve been together, and I probably should have before now. To avoid this kind of thing.” He reaches over and picks something up from his nightstand. It looks like a small metal keychain, and he fidgets with it while he talks.

“You know you don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable,” Jeff says.

“No, it’s not that. I just don’t...I don’t know. I’m not going to tell you all about it right now. I’m really, really tired. I just wanted to tell you about this part, because I feel bad for running away and not telling you why.”

“What I care most about is if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“It’s not always unexpected change that makes it happen,” Abed says slowly. “Sometimes it’s a loud noise or bright lights or an itchy tag in my clothes. Or someone sneaking something into my food and not telling me about it.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Annie _still_ feels terrible about that one,” Jeff says, wincing.

“Anyway, my brain does a bad thing and then I get overwhelmed and can’t function and it’s the worst,” Abed says. “When I’m at home, I have stuff that helps.”

“What kind of stuff?” Jeff asks.

“This blanket, for one,” Abed says. “Lift it.”

Jeff lifts the corner of the blanket wrapped around Abed, and he’s surprised at how heavy it is. 

“It’s weighted,” Abed explains. “It’s good for sensory input. And it makes me feel grounded.”

“This is what you were talking about when you said you like comfy pillows and blankets,” Jeff says, putting pieces together. “It’s a sensory thing.”

“Honestly, everything feels like a sensory thing with me,” Abed says dryly. “So...yes?”

“Okay,” Jeff says. “That’s good for me to know.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Abed says. He yawns and snuggles into Jeff’s side.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jeff says. “You don’t have to tell me anything unless you feel comfortable.” He kisses Abed softly on the top of his head.

“Want to stay here tonight?” Abed asks. “Either way, I’m kind of falling asleep.” He yawns again.

“I’ll stay,” Jeff says. He puts a hand behind Abed’s back and lays him down on the bed, still wrapped in his blanket. Then he cuddles up next to him.

“Night, Jeff,” Abed mumbles.

“Goodnight,” Jeff whispers, and hugs him close.

**four**

Jeff goes to Target to get light bulbs and, naturally, comes home with a whole bunch of other stuff he probably doesn’t need. 

When he’s done putting things away, the bathroom is stocked with tissues and extra toothbrushes, the kitchen has fancy olive oil and a few bottles of wine, and there’s a thick, soft blanket folded up at the end of the couch.

The following weekend, he finds himself at World Market, looking for a gift to send to his mom, as if that will make up for how long it’s been since he visited her. He leaves with a teapot to send her, as well as more wine and five throw pillows, all made from different textured fabric. 

He tosses them on the couches in his living room and likes the way they look. He wonders why he never thought to buy any before.

Abed begins to leave things at his place -- stress squeezers, plastic tangles, fidget cubes that click and spin. Jeff keeps them placed strategically around his condo so that there’s always one within reach of the bed or the couch or the kitchen table. 

Abed doesn’t comment on these things, but Jeff can tell he notices them. He wraps himself up in the blanket whenever he comes over, and he surrounds himself with the pillows, curling up on them or squeezing them or running his fingers over the different types of material. He continues to leave stim toys at the condo, now that there are places for them.

**five**

It’s evening, and they’re hanging out in Jeff’s living room, textbooks and index cards strewn all around, studying for an exam. It’s going pretty well until a fire truck drives by outside, its siren blaring. Jeff and Abed both cringe a bit, then continue quizzing each other. Seconds later, another fire truck goes by, and then another. Abed closes his eyes and starts to rock back and forth slightly, then stops himself and reaches for his book.

“Um, what page are we on?” he asks shakily.

“Page 294,” Jeff says. “Are you all right?”

“Yup,” Abed says, flipping through to find the right page, his hands shaking a little. “Actually,” he adds, hesitantly. “Would you mind turning off the fluorescent light in the kitchen? I can hear it.”

Jeff jumps up and turns out the light, which he can’t hear at all, and it worries him a little bit that Abed can.

When Jeff sits back down, Abed is still fumbling around trying to find page 294, and he’s rocking again. He’s almost got it when _another_ siren blares outside, startling him so much that he tears the page in his hand right out of the book with a loud ripping sound, and that’s the last straw. He folds over so that his head is on his knees and puts his hands over his ears. The wailing sound he makes is fairly familiar to Jeff by now.

Jeff grabs a stress ball from the table and holds it against Abed’s hand. Abed reaches out and takes it, still rocking and wailing, eyes still closed. Then Jeff gets up and closes the curtains in the living room, in case the light is a problem. Finally, he turns on the TV with the volume nearly all the way down, just enough to hopefully provide some background noise to focus on. Then he sits down again next to Abed and wonders what to do next, feeling helpless, until he remembers Abed’s weighted blanket.

He tries laying the throw blanket over Abed’s shoulders, murmuring in his ear first what he’s about to do so he doesn’t startle him. It has no effect, though. Abed barely acknowledges it. Jeff is getting more and more distraught by the second, because it breaks his heart to see Abed like this, to see _his Abed_ like this. 

When he moves again, it’s on instinct. He gets behind Abed on the couch, legs on either side of him, and he drapes himself around Abed’s body, trying to use his own body to mimic the effect of the weighted blanket. He doesn’t move at all, but pretty soon Abed _stops_ moving, and he starts to quiet a bit. It’s gradual, but eventually the sound stops completely, and still, Jeff doesn’t move. He stays exactly where he is until Abed finally relaxes and removes his hands from his ears, turning to look at Jeff.

“Hi,” Jeff says softly.

“Hey,” Abed whispers. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to act like your weighted blanket,” he says, a little sheepishly. “How’d I do?”

“Good,” Abed breathes. “So good. You’re the best. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Jeff says. “Is there...could I have done something different? Handled things better?”

“Not really,” Abed says, sitting up. “This was kind of perfect.” Jeff moves from behind him, and Abed grabs one of the pillows on the couch and hugs it to himself.

“Really?” 

“Yeah, Jeff,” Abed says. “Look around. I mentioned pillows and blankets and you _got them._ I left my stim toys here and you gave them their own place. I told you I have sensory problems and you turned off the lights and put the TV on. I showed you my weighted blanket and you _literally turned yourself into one._ You did all that for _me._ What could possibly be better than that?”

“I didn’t really think of it like that,” Jeff admits. “It just kind of happened.”

“Mmm,” Abed hums, and lays down on the couch so that his head is in Jeff’s lap, still clutching the pillow, curled up into a ball.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Jeff asks.

“Uh-huh,” Abed says, and Jeff runs his fingers through Abed’s hair, smoothing it away from his forehead. 

“Abed,” Jeff says softly, but with conviction. “I love you.”

“I know,” Abed replies sleepily. “You’ve already shown me.”

Jeff leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto Abed’s forehead, then another, and another. He moves his hand from Abed’s hair to his back and begins to rub in circles.

“I love you too, you know.” Abed adds, yawning, and then he drifts off to sleep as Jeff holds him and touches him, keeps him safe.


End file.
